SEAL the Deal(40)
Outside, a spectrum of fiery fall colors danced across her window as a breeze scattered leaves from the nearby maple and oak. A postcard-perfect autumn day, the kind that made Lacey long to sip hot apple cider from a mug and linger on a park bench. To complete the picture, she imagined herself nestled into the crook of the shoulder of an adorable man.
The image of Mick came to mind. She couldn’t help it, even though she knew she was better off keeping him just as a friend.
Mick was already enough of a distraction in his current capacity.
So here she was. No cider. No park bench. No Mick.
Hearing her phone vibrate, she reached for her purse. “Hi, Vi,” she answered, recognizing her sister’s number.
“Hi, Lacey. How are you?”
“Oh, fine. What’s up?”
“Not much. I just thought I’d see how you were doing.”
Something must be wrong. Vi was not the type of person to call to just shoot the breeze. “I’m fine, I guess.”
“How’s that waterfront listing? Any nibbles?”
“A few nibbles, but no offer. They priced it too high. I keep hoping she’ll let me reduce the asking price.”
“Any more listings?”
“I actually just did a presentation for one woman who was recently widowed. But it’s too soon for her to sell. I couldn’t even recommend it.”
Lacey swore she could hear Vi swallowing her disapproval. To her relief, Vi simply said, “Well, keep trying. It’s a great idea you had—that funeral crashing thing. It’s bound to pay off. So, are you still going to Mom and Dad’s for Thanksgiving?”
“Of course. You’re coming, too, right?”
“Of course.”
“I’m always there, Vi. Every year. That can’t be why you called. Is everything really okay?”
Vi laughed. “There’s nothing wrong. Do I need more of reason to call my sister?”
“Well, no.”
“I just haven’t seen you in a while and thought I’d make sure you’d be there.”
There had to be something more, Lacey thought several minutes later as she clicked her phone shut.
She remembered Vi had been eyeing a regular position on CNN as a financial expert. That must be it, Lacey decided, picturing Vi revealing her news at the Thanksgiving dinner table.
Well, at least the Miron listing didn’t sell. Even the sale of a waterfront property would pale in comparison to Vi’s news, anyway.
Before the eerie silence of the office could envelop her again, Mick burst through the door.
“You’re trying to get Mrs. B to sell her house,” he accused, without even offering the customary hello.
Lacey’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“You’re trying to get Mrs. B to sell her house.”
Lacey would have felt guilty if she weren’t so annoyed. “Would you mind lowering your voice? This is my place of business,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t notice she was the only one there. It was the principle. “I don’t burst into your classroom and make scenes, do I?”
“How could you do that to her?”
“I haven’t done anything. Edith asked me to write up a proposal for her house. She was interested in finding out more about the possibility of selling it. She called me. That’s what I do, Mick. I’m a real estate agent.”
“She’s not ready to sell her house. You know that.”
“Yes, I agree. Which I mentioned to her, I might add. But it’s not my decision to make, is it?”
“You know how I feel about that house. You should have told me.”
Her temper flared. “Absolutely not. It’s not your business. Real estate may not be the top secret SEALs, but there is some aspect of confidentiality. If Edith wants to tell you that she is thinking about selling her house, that is her news to share. Certainly not mine.”
“She didn’t tell me. I saw your proposal on her kitchen counter.”
“Did you ask her about it?”
“No. She wasn’t there.”
“So you just helped yourself to it?”
Mick shifted his weight, obviously uncomfortable.
Lacey’s eyes locked on his. “And rather than going to her and asking, you came charging into my workplace—and accusing me of—what? Forcing her to sell her house or something? Pressuring her somehow? Do you really think I’d do that?”
He stood there in defeated silence.
“Is that what you think of me, Mick? For all the time we’ve spent together, you think it’s even possible for me to pressure anyone into selling their home? Damn, I wish I could. Then maybe I’d be at a closing right now rather than answering the phones. Maybe I’d be living in my own house rather than renting a room like I’m fresh out of college or something. And now, to top things off, I have to sit here and listen to you accuse me of being just what I really, really should be if I’m ever going to be able to survive in this business.”